


If Life is a Dream

by badlifechoices



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (2012-2013)
Genre: Bruce Needs a Hug, Canonical Character Death, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Dead, M/M, batman dies but only for a moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices/pseuds/badlifechoices
Summary: Following the timeline of Batman: The Dark Knight ReturnsJason. He thinks and his head is filled with a calm he hasn’t felt in decades. He can’t find the mind to worry about his injuries, about his broken bones and broken pride. If Jason is here it must mean his time has finally come. Jason has come to take him away. It’s not bad like this, he thinks, it’s not a bad way to go.





	If Life is a Dream

###  _Do we wake up in death?_

 

The first time he sees her, he thinks it’s _him_. His vision is blurry, his heart racing, hammering in his ears. He tastes blood, his chest burning as he desperately tries to draw air into his lungs. With bones broken and muscles torn, he can feel the cold tendrils of death creeping up on him, lingering at the edge of his consciousness, as though they’re waiting for him to reach out a hand.

The blur of yellow and red jumps into his field of vision, warmth seeping into his body like he hasn’t felt it in years. The flaming red hair, the slim and trained body, graceful but strong, unafraid of the threat that lies within the overwhelming physical prowess of the enemy. He’s only ever seen one person move like this; has only seen one other person radiate courage and... light. _He’_ s always been a guiding light in the darkness, a brilliant ray of sunshine cutting through the thick clouds looming overhead. _He_ was a blessing, a gift so precious that he didn’t realise how much it meant to him until it was taken away from him. How often has he thought about all the things he would’ve done better, about how much more attention he would give him now, how he would protect him and never let him go.

And now, now he’s here: by his side where he has always belonged. And for a little moment it feels like the world is finally turning again after it’s been standing still for so long. His ribs are cracked, constricting his air flow but he barely feels the strain. He thinks that if he can just touch him once more, reach out and hold him, he could breathe easy again. If those sweet lips would graze his once again, his world would be less empty and dull.

 _Jason._ He thinks and his head is filled with a calm he hasn’t felt in decades. He can’t find the mind to worry about his injuries, about his broken bones and broken pride. If Jason is here it must mean his time has finally come. Jason has come to take him away. It’s not bad like this, he thinks, it’s not a bad way to go. A voice reaches his ear, but he can’t decipher the words spoken, can’t tell that’s it’s not the voice he so dearly longs to hear.

“Don't be dead, please don’t be dead.”

Bruce only realises that it’s not _him_ when they reach the batmobile, when she helps him onto the platform. His eyes clear and he can see the thick rimmed glasses, the features that are so unlike Jason’s – too soft, too innocent. He pushes the disappointment down, tries not to let the wave of grief and pain take over his conscious.

 

He stares into the darkness and calls out to the presence that is at the same time around him and buried deep inside his chest. The Batman answers but his voice is laced with a disgust for the man he embodies. He knows how close Bruce got to the edge, how often he’s thought about ending it all. He knows how _weak_ Bruce really is. How he would’ve sold his own soul just to have _him_ back. The Batman knows that Bruce would’ve betrayed him in a heartbeat if it meant regaining what he’s lost.

“You can’t get rid of me,” the voice whispers into his ear as the cold embraces him. The Batman wants him to forget about Jason, to leave his pain behind so he can focus on the mission. But Bruce knows it’s a wound that can never be closed, a hurt rooted too deep to ever heal. He knows if he loses that ghost of Jason’s presence, he’ll lose himself.

Jason didn’t want to ever stop being Robin. He wanted to never see the Batman disappear. He believed in what they did, believed that the Batman was the way to save the city, to help the people. Jason wasn’t afraid of the government or anyone who tried to tell him what to do.

His hands are pressed against the glass of the case, eyes staring at the green mask that Carrie admired not so long ago. She hasn’t asked about Jason and Bruce hasn’t told her about him either. He knows Alfred will let her in on the secret eventually, no matter how much he disapproves of his choice to keep her around. She deserves to know but he can’t bring himself to retell the tale again.

Closing his eyes, he imagines Jason seeing him like this, imagines the younger man to pull him upright, to lecture him about staying strong. He can see Jason’s brilliant, green eyes; challenging, unbroken, cutting into his soul and asking how he could ever give up on this. On his mission… on _their_ mission.

 

She’s not Jason. Bruce has to remind himself over and over again. She’s Robin, she’s strong and smart and in so many ways like Jason but she’s not _him._ She will never have the same arrogance, the same idealism and love for their nightly patrols. She will never taunt the bad guys with her laughter, dancing from rooftop to rooftop like it’s the easiest thing in the world. She will never fly like he did, the leap of faith as natural as breathing to him, as he jumps into the depths, trusting – _knowing –_ that Bruce will be there to catch him. She will never fill his heart with the same radiant joy that Jason brought him, the same gentle peace that the boy’s smiles planted in his heart.

 

He dreams about the time when things were still okay. When the sky seemed brighter and the world seemed less hopeless. Before his sunshine was taken away, before the Batman had to go into hiding, not because his enemies were overpowering him but because the people had become too accustomed to the peace he brought and cast him out. In his dreams he always finds Jason waiting for him in the Batcave. Sometimes he’s sitting on the comfortable chair in front of the computer screens, focused so entirely on his work, that he doesn’t move until Bruce has his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Look what I found,” Jason will say, pointing to one of the screens and when Bruce leans in to take a closer look at it, the boy will turn his head and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Gotcha,” he’ll whisper, his voice a siren’s song in Bruce’s ear and his breath hot on the older man’s skin. He won’t back off either, will bury his face in Bruce’s shoulder until the older man gives in and scoops him up from the chair.

Jason’s skin is burning under his fingers, every touch sending bolts of electricity through his nervous system, as their lips connect in a desperate need to get closer. His kisses fill Bruce’s chest until he feels like he’s going to burst into flames. The fire spreads wherever their bodies touch, igniting and scorching at the same time. It engulfs him, draws him in like a moth, helplessly hypnotised by the beauty of it. His fingertips map Jason’s scars trail his muscles and every shiver he receives in return is like a drug. He soaks up every moan, every whisper of that voice coloured in pleasure. They connect in a blaze, a raging storm that threatens to tear Bruce’s mind apart with its intensity.

When he wakes up, he feels emptier than before, finds himself longing to return to that dreamworld, where he can embrace his lover whenever he desires to. The waking world loses its colour, becomes dull and grey to him but he refuses to give up.

Jason wouldn’t want to see him defeated. Bruce thinks that maybe, if Jason is watching him, he can redeem himself in the other’s eyes. He can make him proud once more, can truly earn his place at Jason’s side.

 

He doesn’t want to fight Superman but there is no way he will back off. He has reclaimed what is his, has taken his place in Gotham’s nightly sky once more, has given the people hope and a will to defend themselves against injustice. He will not see the government destroy his work again, will not allow those who have never felt what it’s like to be at the other end of the gun, to take this away from them.

Carrie knows about his plan. She also knows how risky it is. Bruce makes sure she knows about his last requests before he leaves. Makes sure she knows about the grave he has picked out for himself, the one next to the tombstone that has been there for over ten years now. He tells Alfred to bury him with Jason’s old uniform. Just in case his plan fails; just in case…

 

Superman is just as strong as he remembers. Just as hesitant to kill him but not unwilling to hurt him, to _kill_ him. Bruce wonders just what happened to Clark all those years ago. When did the man who was willing to die for his friends, become a puppet controlled by the government? When did he accept the idea of killing the ones he used to protect? His colleagues, his friends, his family?

Or maybe he was always like this and Bruce just didn’t expect it – not really in any case. He always had a contingency plan, in case Clark takes the wrong path but he’s never thought he’d have to use it. That was until Superman tore off Oliver’s arm, left him crippled and bleeding out in a dirty alleyway in Star City.

Bruce doesn’t take the time to wonder if there’s any of the man he thought he knew left in the metahuman in front of him, if any of his kindness is real or if it’s just his inhibition to killing. It doesn’t matter now. All the Batman cares about is to give the other the fight of his life. An opponent that he will never forget and that reminds him, that even he is mortal in the end. He wants to show Superman that he’s not better than the rest of them, that his inhuman powers still don’t make him a _god._

The pain simmers in his chest and he knows that it’s time. The timer on his arm is counting down, steadily and unstoppable. Bruce can feel it, the cold griping his limbs, as the poison slowly spreads through his bloodstream. His breathing grows shallow, agony erupting in his chest, spikes of ice tearing into his heart.

He gasps, hand grasping his chest. The world is spinning around him. All strength gone from his muscles. There’s no air left in his lungs. Darkness takes over his vision, drags him deeper and deeper. The icy waves swallow him, and Superman’s voice is drowned out by the roaring sea.

 

 Death is different from what he imagined. There’s no blinding light, no chorus of angels, no hellfire. He feels light, as though a heavy weight has fallen off his shoulders. The air that fills his lungs is clear and there’s a gentle sunlight warming his bare skin. The strain of old age has disappeared, his skin clear of scars and the dark spots age painted on it.

He doesn’t recognise his surroundings, can’t tell where he is but it feels familiar, nevertheless. Even though he’s never been here before, if feels like home. A warm breeze ruffles his dark hair, caresses his cheeks and suddenly he can feel a different touch on his skin.

A pair of lips grazes his own, linger for a moment before pulling away. Green eyes meet his own, a face so free of sorrow and pain that it makes his heart ache in his chest.

“Jason,” he whispers, as the maelstrom of feelings howls inside him.

He’s beautiful, youthful and ethereal in every part of his being. A smile lingers on his lips, so different from his cocky grin. It speaks of happiness, honest joy and yet there’s a sadness to it that Bruce doesn’t understand at first. Why, he wants to ask, why is your happiness tainted. And then he realises it, feels the pull at his mind.

“You don’t belong here, B.” Jason says, and his voice is at the same time so familiar and so foreign. It’s so much clearer than he remembers, so much lighter and it fills Bruce with an overwhelming sadness. But the other shakes his head, closing the distance between them to run his gentle fingers over his cheeks. “It’s alright. You still have things to take care of. There are people who need your guidance. Your work isn’t done yet.”

Those green eyes look up at him with a sincerity and love that takes his breath away. “Jason, Jay-“

Jason only shakes his head. “I know, B.” He chuckles softly. “I’ve waited this long for you, old man, I don’t mind waiting a little longer.” His fingers linger on Bruce’s cheeks, as he presses another kiss onto his lips. “Goodbye Bruce.”

Bruce wants to reply something, wants to tell him how much he missed him, how much he longs to be with him again. He wants to ask Jason, if he’s watching over him, if he knows everything that happened. There are so many things he needs to say but his tongue is frozen in his mouth and the world is blurring around him.

 _Jason_ , he tries to call out, but the word gets lost on the way from his mind to his mouth. The vision disappears, vanishes before his eyes.

Instead he finds himself blinded, light shining into his eyes. His lungs are screaming for air and his limbs are numb. “Jason-,” he croaks. A face swims into his field of vision, tousled red hair and thick rimmed glasses.

“You’re back!” Carrie sounds relieved and he thinks he can see tear tracks on her cheeks. She wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Once he finds the strength, he returns the gesture, holds her close until her hands stop shaking.

 

Bruce watches as the Sons of Batman build up their base of operations. He teaches them everything he knows, and it fills him with a strange satisfaction. He watches them learn, watches them grow stronger and smarter.

He grows older himself, resting his weight on his cane but always keeping his head up and his back straight. He can feel Jason’s touch in everything around him, can feel his spirit in his students, in Carrie taking command, in the pride they take in their work.

He still dreams of Jason but now he doesn’t feel the crippling loneliness taking over whenever he wakes. Jason’s touch seems to linger on his skin, fills him with warmth and a never fading comfort. He knows that Jason is watching over him, waiting patiently until they are reunited once more.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I first saw the movies years ago I was thinking "what if Bruce thinks Carrie is Jason at first" and "what if Bruce meets Jason again in the time when he was clinically dead with his heart stopped and all" and now I finally got around to writing a little about it!


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